


Job-Hopper

by nugatories



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, キミガシネ | Kimi ga Shine | Your Turn To Die (Visual Novel)
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:49:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21926983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nugatories/pseuds/nugatories
Summary: secret santa gift for RelaySoul#9153!Shin Tsukimi goes out in an attempt to find himself a new job.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Job-Hopper

That Friday eve, as the clubs deep in the heart of the city were bustling, crowded, and sweetened with neon lights, and drunk patrons wobbled down the sidewalks, arm in arm with their sober friends, a far too dry man huddled further into his hoodie, his pale skin shadowed in the darkness of the night.

He had just grown bored of his last job and stopped showing up. His last paycheck came in the mail that morning, alongside an angry letter from his former boss. He didn’t read the letter. It fell into the trash, still in its envelope.

Because of this, he had to find something new to do with himself. Instead of enjoy a Friday night, possibly on the prowl to find a cute girl to get drinks with, or to make some friends for once and party with them, he was searching for job listing in the few places that were still open to the public at this time of night.

The closest one was a bar not too far from his apartment. There were rumors surrounding the place, as it was gossiped about to be an underground gambling center, while functioning publicly as a bar. The teal-haired man had some experience in barkeeping, and perhaps it would remain interesting enough to him to pique his interest for longer than his former jobs had.

The place reeked of tobacco. The whole place was hotboxed, and the man had to wave his hand in front of his face to see or breathe correctly. He approached the bar to be met with a young, pretty girl bartending.

“I’m looking to apply here for a job,” he coughed out, “is there any way I could receive an application or talk to a manager?”

The girl stoically analyzed the man. She placed down the glass she was holding and nodded, silently stepping out from behind the bar and walking away in front of the man. He followed her inconspicuously, and she led him down a wooden hallway, with three doors adorning it. Two were restrooms, and the third was an unlabeled door. She pulled a ring of keys from her belt loop and unlocked the mystery door. It was dark inside, and she held it open for the man. “The trapdoor is beneath the carpet. He’s down there. Don’t talk too loudly.”

The man gulped and peered into the dark room. “Why are you telling me about this?”

“You’re not a cop, I can tell,” the girl snickered, “go down and ask for Munakata. The password to get in is ‘lion’s keep’.”

The girl pivoted back to her position. The man shuffled into the room, which was just a regular office with a computer and paperwork and some chairs. He flicked the light on, and it wavered before humming brightly. He lifted up the closest corner of the square carpet on the floor, and a wooden trapdoor was built into the floor. He dug his nails into the side of it and lifted it up. A cold ladder was all that he could see, and taking a deep breath, he began to descend down it, step by step, rail by rail. 

‘Things have been worse,’ the man thought to himself, readjusting the deep green beanie resting on his head, ‘a job’s a job.’

At the bottom of the long, metal ladder was another door. The walls were stone, made of thick rocks, and at the end of this brief hallway was a thick door with a small, opaque window. The man knocked on the door, and a pair of thin, intimidating eyes met his through the window, which was slid open.

“State your name and business,” the husky voice growled.

The slender, warmly-dress man cleared his throat, “My name is Shin Tsukimi. I’m here to see Munakata about a job opening, er, I was told to inform you of the words ‘lion’s keep’.”

The man behind the door huffed and closed the window. Shin heard nothing for a long period of time, but eventually a lock clicked and the husky man from before opened the cellar door, donning a thick, fur coat and flaunting a terrifying buff body beneath it. 

“Munakata will see you now.”

Shin slinked into the room. Mostly men in dark suits were surrounding tables, playing poker and other card games. The rumors were true, but things seemed much tamer than Shin expected. A man stood out far more than the others, with light gray hair and a thin, young face. He was staring directly at Shin, and coaxed him closer with a long finger. Shin obeyed, and found himself on the opposite side of a green table, staring at an intimidating, confident man, and a table of a few men in dark suits and a very young girl dressed in black, white, and red, with charming curly twin tails.

“You got a resumé on you, sir?” The gray-haired man inquired Shin.

Shin blubbered nonsense for a moment, before saying, “it’s on my phone, I can email it to you or something like that. I’m interested in the open bartending position.”

The gray-haired man mumbled something to himself, then whispered to the teenaged girl beside him. She sighed and placed her cards face-down, scooting out from the booth she was in. She looked at Shin and ushered him aside. He followed her, listening to her heels click against the hard floor. She scanned him up and down, and then stopped her stride when the two of them were out of ear’s reach to the men in the room. 

She slid a card into his hands. It had the name “Kyosuke Munakata” printed on it, alongside a phone number and email. 

“Just send it here,” she muttered eloquently. Her red eyes were fixated deeply on Shin, almost as if there was something wrong with him. “That was Munakata at the table. I’m a little bit of his right-hand woman, but I mostly just gamble down here with the rest of them.” She pattered at her gothic lolita outfit. “Now, tell me about yourself.”

Shin cleared his throat again and began to speak. He told the girl about his situation, how he was living paycheck to paycheck and how he lost his last job. Perhaps some information would have been better left out, but Shin was terrified to lie to this girl, worse yet that Munakata guy or his bodyguard with the fur coat. The goth girl listened intently, though she seemed aloofly listening. She’d interject every now and then with “mhm” and “yeah”, but Shin thought nothing of it.

He finished speaking, trying his best to sound confident, and she sauntered back to the table she was at before, cupped her mouth and whispered something to Munakata. The sides of his mouth twitched.

“Shin,” he began, “forward me your resumé at some point tonight, and I will get back to you. I do hope you’re good at keeping secrets,” Munakata said, shuffling cards without even sharing a glance at Shin, “traitors and liars don’t belong here.”

The fur-coat bodyguard escorted Shin roughly from the cellar. “That’ll be all with you.”

Shin tried to get one more look at the gamblers, but all he saw was a mysterious smile from the goth girl, before the thick door was promptly slammed in his face and locked.

The next place he was planning on trying was this cozy, hidden library that was dying out due to technology. Shin loved the quiet, so this place was perfect. The place had a bell that chimed when the door opened.

The “help wanted” sign hung at the front desk was dusty. A young woman was cleaning up behind it. She pushed her circular glasses up with her frail wrist.

“Excuse me, ma’am, I’m here to inquire about the job opening for the librarian position.”

She squeaked, wide eyes glancing at Shin, and her dark irises jolted around the whites of her eyes, trying to make sense of what he just said to her.

“A-Ah,” she coughed out, looking around frantically before exiting from behind the vast desk. Out came a short, thin girl with an ankle-length, tattered sailor skirt, much like a school uniform that has not been in use for ages. “I see, yes, I could certainly u-use some help around here, if that’s okay with you.” She nibbled on her fingernail.

Shin laughed out of pity. “No, yeah, it’s fine. Would you like to see my resumé, or should we schedule an interview, or something?”

The girl huffed anxiously, trying to seek an escape, or some form of relief. Shin could tell she didn’t like strangers—he was the same way, just much less anxious. He figured the best thing he could do is smile and be patient with her—she seemed to be about his age, anyway.

She continued freaking out and attempting to stutter out words. “I-I’m sorry,” she managed, weeping into her pale palms, “you must think I’m s-so p-pathetic.”

“Uh, no, actually,” Shin replied with the loss of his smile, and the replacement of a sympathetic stare, “it’s fine, I get it. Would you rather me come back another time?”

“No!” The librarian shrieked, and her shout was met with utter silence and the faint ringing in Shin’s ears. He believed he may have heard a page flip, but whether or not he just made that up he had no idea.

“P-Please,” she begged, barely touching Shin, and pulling him to one of over a dozen empty, dusty tables.

Shin sat down and the girl did the same across from him. She tossed her braids behind her shoulders and folding her hands across her chest. “Tell me about y-yourself, if you will,” she politely ordered, watching Shin with intrigue.

He told her the same story he told the goth girl. The librarian wouldn’t make small quips, but rather nodded or made funny expressions in response. She never asked about a resumé.

“W-Well!” She exclaimed, standing up. She held out her right hand hesitantly, and it shook in front of Shin. “I think I’d like to have you h-“

“Wait, Fukawa.”

A deep voice emerged from behind the shelves of books. She immediately retracted her hand and held it against her chest. “Yes, Mas- er, sir?”

‘Is that your boss?’ Shin mouthed. The librarian, Fukawa, he assumed, shook her head.

A tannish blond in a fine monochrome suit came out from behind the shelves of books. He held a nice, leatherbound one in his right hand by his side.

“He looks like that? Are you sure about this one? Or is this /her/ talking?”

“No, no, no! I-I swear it’s for real this time! You can talk to him yourself, sir, I-I’m telling the t-truth! He’d make good help, just l-let m...” she trailed off.

The stoic man looked Shin up and down before rolling his eyes. “It’d be better for all of us if you left, okay?” It was less of a suggestion and more of a command. Shin bowed his head towards the duo and shuffled out, but not before he heard some softened arguing over a person named Jack or Jill or something. 

The final place on Shin’s list was as a receptionist for a museum. The night had gotten much colder, and he suddenly wished he had brought a scarf with him to try and keep himself warmer. It was too late now.

The museum had half its lights on. The only people Shin saw at a first glance inside was an elderly janitor sweeping the place, and an oddly-dressed fellow with long hair who was transfixed especially on this one particular portrait hanging on the wall.

Shin tried to pull the door open, but it was locked. The elderly janitor looked towards the strange man, shrugged, and hobbled towards the door, unlocking it for Shin.

“Whaddya need?” The elderly janitor croaked.

“I’m here on account of a job posting for a receptionist I read about online. Is there someone I can speak to?”

The janitor glanced towards the other strange guy in the room. “You can try taking to Kiyo over there. Any luck and you’ll land the job on the spot. Good luck with that.”

The janitor turned away and Shin creeped up towards this Kiyo guy.

“Sorry it’s so late,” Shin apologized, “I was hoping to catch you before the place closed to talk about a job opening I saw online? For a receptionist?”

Kiyo stayed silent, as if he didn’t hear Shin in the slightest. 

The portrait was that of a young couple dressed in old fashioned clothes. They were in a field, bright and inspiring, but there were clouds up ahead in the sky. No animals were in the portrait, and only the part of the field the couple stood in had any flowers at all.

“What do you make of this?” Kiyo inquired.

Shin gulped, “I think it’s a commentary on the power of love,” he admitted. He never thought himself to be the romantic type, but he loved art. “That no matter how bad things get or seem, as long as you have each other, things’ll be okay.”

Kiyo nodded. Whether or not he smiled Shin did not know, as a dark mask coated his nose, mouth, and chin. There was some semblance of shifting beneath it, however.

“Interesting perspective. What’s your name?”

“Shin Tsukimi.”

“Shin, Shin, Shin. Have you ever felt love?”

“I-I’m sorry?” He choked.

“I asked a question. It’s so I can further understand your interpretation of this piece of work. I’m an anthropologist, you know. Your mindset is very important to me.”

Shin looked at his feet, then back up at the painting of the couple. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Maybe once. I don’t know.”

“Interesting,” Kiyo hummed, running a gloved hand through his long, silky hair. “See, I think it symbolizes the doom that comes for all, be it joyous or not. I don’t think the focus of this is the couple, per say, but rather humanity as a whole. You can live your life aspiring for love, heaven, happiness, or whatever you’d like, but death is inevitable. That’s beautiful to me.”

Shin felt like his energy was being sucked from him like a vacuum. This guy was tiresome as all hell.

“Sir, can we discuss the job opening?”

Kiyo sighed loudly and dramatically. “If your attitude is truly like this all the time, I’m going to suggest you leave now.”

Shin stumbled backwards in emotional retaliation, but felt a wave of nausea and exhaustion overtake him. He hung his head and turned out the door, ignoring some cries from the old janitor in the process.

He walked for a long time. Or maybe not. He walked until he was freezing. He sat down on a park bench, unsure of how far he was from his apartment. He pressed his forehead into his hands and gritted his teeth. He then let rip a foul scream, echoing off the bark of the trees and the sidewalks. He sat for a while, or maybe not, before the bench shifted upwards on his side. He turned towards the stranger now sitting beside him. They were a plump, well-dressed individual, fixing their hair and clothes. They were lightly dressed for the weather, but weren’t shivering.

“Bad life?” They asked. Steamy air exited their mouth as they spoke. It was that wintry contrast of warm breath and cold atmosphere.

“It’s been this way for years,” Shin muttered, defeated, “not that you know my situation.”

“No, you’re right, I don’t,” They sighed, placing their thick hands on their knees, “but I know a thing or two about escaping it.”

Shin’s interest was piqued quickly. “Yeah? Better not be drugs. They didn’t do anything for me.”

The stranger chuckled warmly. “No, nothing like that. It’s merely a suggestion. Something you’ve gotta work on yourself.”

“What’s that, then? Enlighten me.”

The stranger shifted in their seat. “Becoming an impostor. I do it for a living, pretending, acting, cosplaying, whatever you’d like to call it. Escape your miserable life and live someone else’s. No strings attached. You want to escape your life just as much as they do.”

Shin shook his head. “That’s ridiculous. You’re a bad impostor if you’re telling me you’re one, anyway.”

“Nah, I’m off-duty. Besides, I’ve seen you around this city. I’ve been your coworkers, your bosses, your bosses’ bosses, your customers, too. You’re depressed no matter what. Grow up and do something about it, or suffer trying. Not my problem.”

The stranger got up and groaned. They dusted off their trousers and turned to walk down the sidewalk. They waved to Shin. “See ya, Tsukimi. May we meet again, perhaps as people we truly are not.”

They disappeared down the road between the park trees. Shin felt his body freezing up, but he dwelled on the impostor’s words. Becoming someone else—was it such a terrible idea?

Sure, there were plenty of people Shin would rather be. But actually becoming them? That’s the hard part. 

He slumped once again, at a loss. Maybe the impostor was a sign from God, or maybe it was just some confused person rambling on about nonsense. Maybe he should forget about it all.

“I couldn’t become someone else,” Shin shuddered, trying to talk to himself, as it was better than no one at all, “that’s not who I am.”

Saying it aloud didn’t make the notion go entirely away, however. It remained there, instilled, etched into his brain as a horrid—or delicious—possibility.


End file.
